On The Train

On The Train

A Poem by redzone
"

Something I began a while ago and just finished.

"

ON THE TRAIN

 

Intro:

1) "To be or not to be. That is the question."

�" Shakespeare, from "Hamlet"

 

2) "There is but one philosophical problem, and that is suicide. Whether or not the world has 3 dimensions or the mind 9 or 12 categories, comes afterward."

�" Albert Camus, from "The Myth of Sisyphus"

 

3) "Yes, I thought. You can ponder this or analyze that til the cows come home, but the real question is whether all your pondering and analysis will convince you that life is worth living."

�" Brian Greene, from "The Fabric of the Cosmos"

 

4) " Now when you come up against the great gulf that often, and even generally, exists between the conditions and suffering of the masses of people, on the one hand, and what you are able to do about that at any given point - when you run up against that repeatedly, everyone feels a definite pull which expresses itself in moral terms: how can you stand by and not do something about what’s happening to the masses of people?

�" Bob Avakian, from "BAsics"

__________________

 

On the train to Florida,

world music colors the air

with Mexico, Ireland, India,

the Middle East and Africa.

Colors-rich, primeval,

nothing pastel,

and it’s hard to sit still,

hold my peace

while these rhythms paint

the pulse of my body.

As the train moves further South,

I can feel the sticky humidity

of jungles fragrant with bougainvillea,

and bromeliades dangle

from every note of Les Nubian.

Talking Drums answer in response.

While trumpets call out

staccato style,

hot with salsa,

a reflection of my uneasy mind

wondering what I will find.

***

Visiting my folks is a joy,

but these last few trips

have also brought

lots of struggle and pain.

They are getting on in life,

still living, but now

mostly dying.

How do you write about

life and death?

And in particular,

Dad’s worries about ‘family trees’

and the fact that we are the last.

***

How do you write about dying?

Could I write a poem

the way Mozart wrote his "Requiem";

feverish, delusional

yet his notes flowed from his fingers

like a tempest brewing

in an open flame.

While my words are shards,

splintered in millions

trying to explain a different view

on our finite lives.

***

"Have a nice trip home", they said.

" Ok, love you mom,

love you dad", I reply.

And as the train pulls off,

and I wave goodbye,

I worry about them.

***

As the train heads North

and listen to these different songs,

I reflect on our conversations

and think:

Within the swirl of colors and words,

stirred and mixed musically,

we raise our questions,

speak our art

and tell our stories.

There have been many.

Countless, like endless grains of sand

washed ashore in the cosmos.

But what happens when they end?

What if a story winks out

like a dying sun losing its light

as it becomes a black hole.

Then what?

Will there ever be another?

A continuance

or something new?

Extinction is final -

it’s a m**********r.

***

Dad, you say that it matters,

that this family name

has reached its last branch.

But why?

Humanity will go on.

What is in a name anyway?

And how did it come about, our name?

But more, what have we done?

Yes, we existed.

We loved, fought and died.

We played, married,

raised family and did what we thought right.

But have we disturbed the universe;

made waves in the ocean’s tide?

More importantly,

did we live and die for the people;

sacrifice all just to make the leaps

to change the world?

Here is an infinite truth:

billions have come and gone

now lost to history;

billions more will do the same.

Our lives are finite,

yet change and matter,

in one form or another

is infinite.

In this ever changing world,

have we strained to the limits

to touch matter,

affect its taste;

attempted to move its direction

in the service of human kind?

Or, have we simply gone along with the way things are?

Have we made a difference?

Have we really lived?

And isn’t this the only truly philosophical problem!

______________________________

Conclusion: Further thoughts:

 

1) "But it is only through fearless engagement that we can learn our own limits. It’s only through the rational pursuit of theories, even those that whisk us into strange and unfamiliar domains, that we stand a chance of revealing the expanse of reality."

�" Brian Greene, from "Hidden Reality"

 

2) "Your life is going to be about something - or it’s going to be about nothing. And there is nothing greater your life can be about that contributing whatever you can to the revolutionary transformation of society and the world, to put an end to all systems and relations of oppression and exploitation and all unnecessary suffering and destruction that goes along with them."

�"Bob Avakian, from "BAsics"

 

~~~redzone 7/31/13 (began 2/12/12)

© 2013 redzone


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Reviews

dear Curt... there have been people in my
life... who have taken their life.. mostly because
they were in physical pain and/or emotional pain.
I do not judge them. So far, I have never considered
suicide... and poetry is definitely a venue to express your
feelings, and release the tension over time.
Life is precious and divine for many people. truly, Pat


Posted 4 Years Ago


You are right it is hard to write about suicide. sadly though it has been happening quite often lately and it's because of the hate that goes around in our world.

This poem looks like it took time, It looks complicated, It contains many parts which can make it hard to read for a beginner like me. I like how you compare music to each part of the world you travel on the way to vist your parents. I hope I am right that that's what you were trying to get at.

Good Job.

Posted 7 Years Ago


redzone

7 Years Ago

life is complicated and complex, so is a poem...
this poem is about what our lives are worth.. read more
I love the whole "train ride" motif as a way to carry along an endless line of cars, chock full of pondering & ponderous implications. I love the beginning quotes that deal with suicide, since it seems to be happening at a frightening pace around me these days. I love the opening of the poem as it deals with blending of cultures, especially in our current political climate of embracing or rejecting our differences.

I love the idea of visiting mom & dad, something I've never done in my adult life, so it's enlightening to walk a mile in the shoes of someone who might do / might have done this (or cared about doing it). Also, thinking about family lineage, which has never mattered to me, but which matters to lots of people. Most of all, I feel synchronicity in the thoughts about living & dying & whether we matter or make a difference, what does it all mean?

Last but not least, I'm really glad I'm not inside your head becuz there's a whole lot going on in there. Your message makes me thankful for my simpleton country ways of thinking & writing. It would be hard to sort out a focused message, if all this was going around inside my head. I don't know how you do it! (((HUGS)))

Even tho I don't much care about the extinction of humans (we are very overrated by our own estimations) . . . I do very much care about extinction of other creatures by our hands, so this line really speaks to me & I love the rawness of it: "Extinction is final - it’s a m**********r."


Posted 7 Years Ago


redzone

7 Years Ago

I love your review Margie... I definitely love how this poem turned out, but since there were differ.. read more
barleygirl

7 Years Ago

I am even more stunned (now) by the phrase (in your response): "collective suicide" . . . that is su.. read more
And because Ana did, I did too. I love this, the depth and breadth of it. besides, a lot of good thoughts happen on a train.

Posted 7 Years Ago


redzone

7 Years Ago

Thanks KL, on this train, many thoughts... it's a long way from NYC to S. Fla (25 hours by train) so.. read more
Well I am very glad I reached far back to read this one. It was super.
The questions we ask and all seek, they will come in death. But if death is truly game over, we will have our answer without being able to enjoy our answer. Shoot, now I want to write a poem just about that! This was truly marvellous. What is in a name? Nothing. My name has changed but it has not changed who I am. Only who I thought I was. But that is my own opinion because I am not one to get attached to things like that. For others, a name is their whole history and pride. What is in a name depends only on how you feel about it. Father put pressure on children to carry the name, but all things live and die eventually.

(Except for the Smiths. They'll live forever.) :)

Posted 7 Years Ago


redzone

7 Years Ago

I think there will always be "Smiths"... but if yyou mean the musical group "Smiths" hell yes they w.. read more
Papaya

7 Years Ago

twas my pleasure. :)
How do you write about dying?
Could I write a poem
the way Mozart wrote his "Requiem";
feverish, delusional
yet his notes flowed from his fingers
like a tempest brewing
in an open flame.
While my words are shards,
splintered in millions
trying to explain a different view
on our finite lives.

I had to dig to find this jewel but I am very glad I did. A superb narrative poem with just the right amount of poetic and symbolic flourish. Bravo.

Posted 9 Years Ago


redzone

9 Years Ago

I thought I heard someone rooting around in the attic Pryde. Glad you found a poem that rewarded you.. read more
This smacks of a mind's journey just beginning. But I could be mistaken... probably am. However, I think it's good that you have at least established a metric with which it may be considered. I always like to read a writer's first contributions here. Sometimes it's just a "mic check" but other times, like this, there a real passion for saying something worthwhile; something worth sharing. I think you've done that here.

Posted 9 Years Ago


I read this a few times and will definitely read it a few more. There is so much expressed here - and I enjoyed the conversation like style you wrote in - When you spoke of your dad and family trees - I have to admit - I had tears in my eyes remembering how important this was to my father and how he was so worried about "reaching the last branch" as you so eloquently put it. And here I am, my friend, reading your poem, sitting on the last branch and wondering like you - have we lived, Have we made a difference?...I'd like to think so. Hugs, Julie

Posted 10 Years Ago



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Added on July 31, 2013
Last Updated on July 31, 2013

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redzone
redzone

somewhere, usa



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